


gestalt principles

by minshuas



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: College AU, M/M, There's minor cursing.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9718076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minshuas/pseuds/minshuas
Summary: "Gestalt psychology is an attempt to understand the laws behind the ability to acquire and maintain meaningful perceptions in an apparently chaotic world. Gestalt theory, it is proposed, allows for the deconstruction of the whole situation into its elements."Soonyoung's thesis is on Jeon Wonwoo: on the deconstruction of a wholly perfect person into the gestalt principles.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'm unable to write a fucking short fic my friends. 
> 
> this took up a week of my life and i proofread it this morning and wanted to cry...

i. the law of similarity: 

“ _perception lends itself to seeing stimuli that physically resemble each other as part of the same object,_  
_and stimuli that are different as part of a different object_ ”

from the tiny alcove above him, soonyoung can catch glimpses of his stranger on particularly rare occasions: rainy days when everyone walks a little bit faster along campus clutching umbrellas or wearing big hoods, sunny days when the sunlight seems to reflect off of every surface it reaches, windy days when manuscripts and sheet music are swept away from nervous students with trembling hands as they are on their way to a recital or an audition, even when the snow falls onto the ground, dusting it a fair white. 

watching him is like a metaphor for his relationship with the music department —he’s an outsider, only given the liberty to peer into the world that he had at his fingertips, before the incident.

the accident.

 _whatever_ anyone preferred to call it.

the event in question did not matter. all that mattered was that it had happened and it had ruined soonyoung’s dancing career. his doctor had looked at him, simply, and told him, with his lips turned down in that half-baked sympathy that doctors possess, that _it is strongly advised that you no longer partake in_ any _strenuous activity_. that ended up including dancing, even if he tried to make it as easygoing and relaxed as possible. even when he took it easy, his foot still broke underneath the weight of his body and he was back in that hospital room, staring up at the whiteness of the walls and wondering what deity hated him _this much_. his parents didn’t have the money for a third surgery for whatever was wrong with his useless, good-for-nothing foot. nerve damage, torn ligaments, crushed bones —none of it mattered to him. there was no importance in _when_ or _what_ , only that it happened and it had ruined him. it had been the only reason that he spent most of his time flushing down antidepressants for two years, and why his mother started to cry most nights.

on a cocktail of antidepressants and pain medicine, soonyoung had to give up his dreams, the ones that his parents didn’t even endorse until it was far too late. he no longer could perform.

the music department had accepted him after viewing his taped audition, but the incident happened before he even had a chance to meet his advisers or take any of the dance classes. that summer, the summer before he would finally go off to college and be free from his family’s notions of what made him a good son and what made them desperately ignore his existence, he wasn’t even dancing. he had been walking, stepped wrong, didn’t immediately go to the hospital, and ended up falling down the stairs while leaving minghao’s apartment. he screamed so loud that minghao had thought he was being murdered, and honestly, if he could reverse time, he thinks that maybe that would have made his life a little bit easier. maybe it would have been for the best.

he’s lucky the school still accepted him after the accident. he spent all summer in the hospital, trying to coordinate a new schedule: one that would please his parents, his doctors, and his overbearing, overanxious friends. he doesn't end up pleasing his parents when he decides on a major in photography and a minor in linguistics and literature. he’s no good at science or mathematics, so he knows they are out of the question. he’s not talented enough to get into the vocal or instrumental programs, so he doesn’t even try. all of that still leaves a wide array of choices, but soonyoung likes to think that he has all of this well planned, so he settles on learning the nuances of language and reading because he’s good at that. maybe he’ll end up as a famous translator of literature or maybe he’s only taken the literature minor to find himself alongside junhui for the ride named _college_. if he has a friend in a couple of his classes, then his chances of dropping out slim by a margin, so that’s enough incentive to sign up for the extra readings every single _fucking_ night.

he tucks tonight’s reading into his the backpack draped over his shoulder, not worn properly since his freshman year. junhui and minghao take too much time getting out of their class that supposedly ends the same time as his _introduction to phonetics and phonology_ class (“which is _riveting! really!_ ” says soonyoung who is sitting cross-legged across from minghao. he's been eyeing soonyoung's course textbook with a weary look all afternoon, like it is a sack of rocks that soonyoung is asking him to carry across the desert.

“if it was _riveting_ , then you wouldn’t have used that word to describe it.” minghao replies, laughing, small features scrunching up alongside his nose. soonyoung forgets that he needs to swallow and makes a choking sound when he remembers that it is a function he has to partake in. minghao laughs at that too. soonyoung thinks about kissing him, and with that startlingly realization that his feelings are a little more than just innocent puppy love, he panics to end the study session early).

except that their class couldn’t _possibly_ end at the same time as his because he always spends fifteen minutes seated outside of the music department, scared to step into it and see what he’s missing out on. fifteen minutes he spends watching his handsome stranger flip through sheet music, push up his glasses, muss his hair, let his fingers dance across the piano’s keys. they’ve worked out a similar schedule this year; soonyoung sees him a lot more often than he ever did before. 

minghao always exits first, jumping down the short flight of stairs. it looks so scripted to soonyoung. he can chronicle it: minghao jumps down the whole set of stairs; junhui has his hands stuffed in his pockets, but doesn't keep his head down; one of them mention this freshman, _chan_ ; the other complains about this freshman, _chan_ ; soonyoung laughs even though he doesn't really understand; minghao loops his arm around soonyoung’s;  junhui offers to cover dinner (because his parents are _loaded_ and keep sending him too much money _and_ too much food in his care packages); minghao agrees, so soonyoung agrees. this cycle repeats every friday, like this, until they arrive at their apartment (which holds all three of them plus another roommate that soonyoung hardly ever sees. minghao apparently likes him, says he’s friendly. plus he always cooks for them on the weekends _and_ he also often cleans up around the apartment, even the bathroom. so there’s very little to dislike about him, but his schedule clashes so much with soonyoung’s that the two never really cross paths. soonyoung knows he’s tall and handsome, not pudgy and short like himself, so he’s pretty well-off in soonyoung’s mind).

“hey, i’ll cover dinner?” junhui says, scripted, just in time, if not a little late.

the lull in between their complaints about class and junhui offering to buy dinner for the both of them is long enough for soonyoung’s gaze to be pulled back up to the second floor of the music department, to the alcove, to the handsome stranger who is now standing. he’s like a fucking magnet and soonyoung feels so stupid because he doesn’t even have his name yet he’s always looking his way. it's been like this for four years now. it seems impossible that they haven't exchanged names by now, but soonyoung desperately wants to keep him as his little secret for as long as possible. maybe he'll make sure to catch him before they graduate, although he wouldn't be all that mad to have a name to the handsome face decorating rolls and rolls of his film. 

dark eyes peer out of the window, peer towards soonyoung, _peer at soonyoung_. his eyes widen in silent surprise. the stranger looks confused, tilting his head in askance. he can’t make out his microexpressions from this distance, so he can’t see if he scrunches his eyebrows up or narrows his eyes. from what he can make out, there appears to be a confused expression on his dumb, handsome face and his head is still tilted to the side. soonyoung is the one to turn away, too quickly, turning his whole body away from the window.

minghao and junhui blink stupidly, feet rooted to the ground as they wait for soonyoung to continue following them.

junhui figures it out first, following soonyoung’s previous line of sight up to the now empty window. “who was it? someone you know…?” junhui presses his lips into a thin line. if he didn't know that soonyoung had feelings for minghao, then he would probably endlessly teased him. luckily, neither of them seem to have noticed the figure, so neither of them knew about his stranger yet. 

he shrugs. “i don’t know. maybe..?” he says, which is a lie, but he figures no one will know the difference since there’s no evidence of who was up there.

minghao knits his eyebrows together, gaze drifting up the window. “maybe?” he licks his lips as though he doesn't trust soonyoung's reply.

soonyoung makes a noise in the back of his throat. “i said i don’t know for sure. i couldn’t get a good look, okay?” he sounds like a temperamental teenager, but he can't help it. especially when he just wants to go home and hide underneath a pile of blankets. his genius response, his embarrassment getting the better of him. he doesn't really feel like going out to eat anymore. he doesn't want to be anywhere the sun can reach him, and now minghao won't let it go. it's been years since soonyoung has shown interest in anyone; minghao doesn't hesitate to remind him whenever he can. 

minghao smirks, leaning in too close. soonyoung recognizes that look in his eyes. he isn't noticing soonyoung's discomfort, or if he does, then he's taking it for what it isn't. there's no way that soonyoung could have feelings for a _stranger_. the thought of it is unappealing; strangers don't offer safety and patience. strangers aren't soonyoung's childhood friend who he trusts with his heart. “did you _want_ a good look?” he wiggles his eyebrows in what soonyoung would consider a comical motion, if he weren't trying to catalog the number of minghao's dark eyelashes. soonyoung feels sick to his stomach. he wishes that he didn't even chance another look at that window. he shouldn’t have been, especially when there was a stranger nestled up there in the warmth of the building meanwhile the boy he’s been pining over for a little over a year is standing beside him with an arm slung over his shoulders amicably, blissfully unaware of soonyoung’s unrequited feelings towards him.

he forces a laugh. minghao sees right through it, lifting an eyebrow in question. his whole face softens. soonyoung's trying to put his guard up meanwhile minghao is putting his down, removing all the playfulness from his expression. “let’s head to get food already, i’m starved,” junhui says, patting his stomach for emphasis and soonyoung finds himself appreciative of his best friend who might not be the most covert at trying to remove soonyoung from the center of attention, but he does it successfully since as soon as food is mentioned, minghao lights up again, remembering that he too is starved.

soonyoung lets them go ahead of him in their excitement. foolishly, he throws his gaze back towards the window just one more time before leaving. _he saw me_ , soonyoung thinks,  _where... did he go?_  there’s no one there anymore. his gaze falls back down and he finds him there at the entrance of the building, leaning onto the railing of the stairs, looking cool, but out of place. soonyoung finds it hard to swallow. he pulls on the strap around his neck until his camera is in his hands instead of draped around him as it always is, unused. _what a poor excuse for a photography major_. he tries to freeze this moment, watching as his handsome stranger shuffles some sheet music in his hands. he captures it, once, then twice, and then minghao is at his shoulder.

“hey wonwoo!” he waves in the direction of the stranger. the stranger, _wonwoo_ , waves back, holding soonyoung’s gaze instead of minghao’s.

soonyoung shivers in the warmth of the afternoon.

 

ii. figure-ground:

_"identifying a figure from the background"_

__

junhui pushes his book onto the floor dramatically which wins soonyoung’s attention over. soonyoung falters on the sentence he had been reading, looking perplexed as he reaches down to collect junhui’s book from the floor. the two of them are alone for their study circle tonight. minghao and mingyu both had decided to go grocery shopping, together. it made soonyoung feel a little uneasy, but junhui had waved them off, then turned to soonyoung to ask if he wanted to get started reading together. 

apparently, junhui had other plans to attend to as well.

“when are you going to tell minghao?” he asks. his voice is quiet which means this is a serious conversation. he wants a serious response from soonyoung, not shrugs or jokes or blatant ignorance on the topic. soonyoung freezes, trying to steady his breathing before straightening back up in his seat. he has to collect himself or he might end up crying like last time they talked about this. soonyoung doesn't know why it had to be brought up now. "do you even still...?" his attention is pulled back to junhui. his question is left unfinished; both of them know what is being questioned.

"yeah," his smile is pathetic. “but never, probably. i don't know how or when i ever will.”

a sigh, as expected from junhui. “that’s not going to work, soonyoung.”

“i don’t know why it matters. if he doesn’t know now, then it’ll be alright if i never tell him and life keeps moving forward. there’s no harm in it if he hasn’t figured it out.” there’s the telltale shrug that means soonyoung wants to end the conversation here. junhui leans forward though and he _knows_ that he should have never told junhui about his crush. that’s all it is anyway, soonyoung isn't dying to be with minghao… he just hasn't met anyone else since realizing four years ago that he liked him. it sounds pathetic, like he’s completely soft for his best friend, but he could get over him, if he tried. there’s just no reason for him to get over him, even if it isn’t convenient to like him and it ends up hurting him a lot, in the end. 

even if it ends up hurting him right now. he never even expects the words to come out of junhui's mouth.

junhui interrupts him with a raised hand and his voice is still so quiet when he speaks. he’s being too serious for soonyoung. he wishes that he could laugh about this with junhui or go back to reading. he doesn't need the same conversation to happen over and over again. he definitely doesn't need this new addition to the conversation. it feels like his world has been tilted before the words even leave junhui's mouth. he feels sick before he even knows why he should.

“minghao told me, yesterday, that he likes me.” junhui says it so simply. it feels humiliating, even if that's not how junhui means to deliver it. if he had covers, then he’d pull them all up over his head and try to forget the world for a minute. he had been so sure that he wasn't in love with minghao until junhui dropped a bomb, then he realized he was definitely in love with minghao. he had been for the better part of four years, at least. his blood runs hot in his veins as he tries to control the anger that flares up in his chest. he wants to throw junhui's things across the room. he wants to punch his fist through the drywall, maybe. his body doesn't know whether to feel sad or mad, so he ends up an ugly combination of the two. he tries to curl up into himself and toss all of the books of the couch.

he can't dance.

he can't win minghao over.

he doesn’t know what he is capable of anymore.

junhui moves, uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. the house is too quiet and soonyoung wishes that he was alone in the midst of an orchestra of sounds.

“when?” soonyoung asks, because he’s an idiot. "when yesterday?" 

junhui almost doesn’t answer him. he gives a shrug, knits his eyebrows together. he’s trying to figure out if this is a test or not, but soonyoung’s curious. apparently, he wants to feel the full extent of the pain. most of yesterday, the three of them had spent together. he wants to know when things changed between junhui and him and how soonyoung didn't even notice it at all. “at the studio, after class.” he doesn't like that answer, but he knows how he didn't notice a change. it had been when he was looking up at wonwoo. it had happened within the music department, the building that turns him away repeatedly. that building holds magic that will never touch soonyoung. "i told him that... i... i couldn't. i had to think about it... i knew i had to talk to you before talking to him about it anymore." he sounds like he wants to say more. soonyoung grew up with him, so he realizes it. he doesn't miss details like this. 

“you like him too…” soonyoung realizes, eyes widening. _how did i never notice it before…?_ soonyoung feels like more than just an idiot. the humiliation and stupidity is amplified and played through the speakers on full volume until he wishes that he could be anywhere else right now. he leans away from junhui, unable to control his expressions any longer. he shakes his head, then stands up, kicking both books across the floor. he feels betrayed, but also like he doesn’t have a right to be. "this is why you wanted me to talk to him about my feelings..."

he stares off into space for what feels like an incredibly long time. junhui waits patiently for his anger. “how long?” he asks, because he isn't done hurting himself yet.

another shrug. he _really_ should have ended this conversation before it had a chance to get this far. “awhile? i don’t know, soonyoung. it didn’t just happen though. i told you that i always thought he was cute…” junhui looks like this is hard for him, but soonyoung wonders if it’ll be hard after this moment in time, because then he’s free to tell minghao that _yes, i do want to go on that date_ or _yes, i do like you. i have for awhile too_. things that soonyoung had dreamt that minghao would say to him once he worked up the courage to confess his feelings to him. “i don’t know… soonyoung, this isn’t an attack against you. if you want, then i can tell him that i’m not interested. i just think _you_ should talk to him before i talk to him.”

“talk to who?” mingyu says, emerging from the hallway. soonyoung hadn't even heard the front door unlock, so he jumps in surprise. junhui waves him away dismissively, so mingyu turns to head into the kitchen instead of into the living room, putting down the bags of groceries that fill his hands. soonyoung watches as he does this and it helps him ease his breathing for when minghao walks in.

soonyoung knows that minghao will parrot the question, same as mingyu, but soonyoung plans on leaving before that happens. he stumbles as he starts towards the door. everything turns to impulse in his body as he looks up to meet minghao’s stunned gaze. “where are you…?” he’s in the middle of asking as soonyoung pushes past him, tears stinging his eyes. he's so hurt; he's so  _angry_ at everyone and no one.

“go for it with junhui, minghao.” he turns around as he walks backwards towards the front door. mingyu and junhui are both frozen, watching the scene with bated breath. soonyoung’s vision is blurry as he tries to blink the wetness in his eyes away. he bets that he looks desperate and disgusting like this. “i gave him my blessing seeing as i’ve loved you too. he needed the go ahead to make sure everything was okay with me beforehand, and it is. no worries!” he spins around, quick, needing to get out of the apartment before minghao can respond, before time picks back up again.

on his way out, he grabs his camera.

.

.

campus is wild on friday nights. always packed with students who are mostly loitering, hoping for an opportunity to fall into their lap, somehow: an invitation to a party, a fun campus event, a flirtatious encounter, anything to try to keep themselves busy once classes are over for the week. being stagnant should be refreshing for students, it’s a break from their hectic schedules, but from what soonyoung sees, it’s the opposite. students get too restless when the weekend comes around and they try to make plans to sustain themselves until the next monday comes around, sucking the energy from their bodies so that they have to recharge by way of caffeinated drinks and overeating. by the time the weekend comes, they are full to the brim with caffeinated energy. 

soonyoung feels restless now, angry red trails running down his chubby cheeks. he’s never been more self-conscious of his body. it had been lean two years ago, but he had taken to stress-eating during his rehabilitation, then more stress-eating during the first semester of college when he feared that he would fail out due to the overbearing workload (he had come close, but somehow managed to balance his poor grades with better ones towards the end of the year). he had started exercising again recently, mostly walking and lifting weights, but he was having trouble losing the fat in his face and hips. he had always had extra weight in his cheeks making them impossibly round and squishy, but he had wanted to slim down, was desperate to slim down so he could be lean and attractive, like how he was when he had met minghao. nowadays he always felt like his body was an ugly shape, displeasing to look at. maybe that had something to do with why minghao wasn’t attracted to him, especially since minghao was such a small, skinny thing himself. maybe their bodies would feel weird when they met in the middle and don’t fit too well together. maybe it’s something like a cruel type of fate.

he pushes those thoughts away, slowing when he approaches the music department. he doesn't need to be sinking deeper into his sadness. he notices that there’s some type of acoustic music flowing from the building. it sounds like guitar with piano accompaniment; there may even be another instrument, but his ears feel clogged.

the window is open. he stops in his tracks, wiping at his eyes hurriedly with his sleeves. it is  _his_ window.

he takes his camera into his hands, positioning it so that he can capture this moment to the best of his ability. it’s hard to get a good angle from here on the ground, but he does his best. wonwoo is sitting on the windowsill, head tilted back in laughter, sheet music on his lap. soonyoung thinks he looks like if the wind blows too hard, then he’d end up falling. the scene is precarious and momentary; one second will never be the same as the next. the shutter clicks, then does so again and again in fast succession.

cameras remind soonyoung of himself because they are so desperate to capture the fleeting moments of life. he thinks that he’s like that, but the camera can grasp at it and hold it forevermore, while his hands aren’t strong enough to hold onto forever. it slips from his grip, but his camera can replay priceless moments through time. memories become timeless and tangible through the lens of a camera. when the eyes shut, a mental snapshot is taken, but there are always so many snapshots being filed away at record speed all the time. cameras focus on the beauty and the reality of the moment. through the camera, soonyoung is viewing the world from outside himself. the world is more peaceful this way.

wonwoo turns. soonyoung's watching him through the viewfinder. “minghao’s friend.” his voice is deep, but warm. it feels pillowy, like velvet, and smooth, like satin sheets. it flows from the second floor, from that window in that alcove that soonyoung finds himself staring up at every friday. the window is never open, but now it is. “hey,” he finishes, and soonyoung worries internally because he’s definitely going to fall out of the window with the way he's tilting back to take soonyoung in.

“hey,” soonyoung croaks, feeling heat rise to his face. his throat is too dry for him to sound like himself. if there was ever a day for his handsome stranger to approach him, or well, call out to him, he wishes it weren’t today, not this friday. he wants to go back home, but that’s out of the question. he doesn’t even have a safe place on campus to hide out away from everyone. this was his favorite place and now he wouldn’t be able to settle outside of it quietly because wonwoo had caught him. “soonyoung,” he says after a moment, feeling dumb. he hopes that wonwoo doesn't think he's being rude when he doesn't lower his camera. 

a smile tugs on wonwoo’s lips. “you look like shit, soonyoung.”

the laugh that bubbles up in soonyoung’s throat comes out nervous and dry. it’s sarcastic. “way to charm a man.” he doesn’t feel like bantering, but he can’t take this out on wonwoo, so he tries to maintain some sense of himself. if he were fine, then he would engage in bantering with him, especially playful bantering that feels like it could take a load off of his shoulders if he let it. plus wonwoo has no clue what is happening in his life.

he catches the way that wonwoo’s face seems to soften.  _maybe i'm imagining it..._

“you aren’t my type, sorry,” wonwoo replies. “you are a little too short for me.” he looks down, directly below him, not even at soonyoung. soonyoung admittedly feels a little confused before he realizes that wonwoo’s joking with him; he intended to be funny. he doesn’t want to laugh at the bad joke, but he does, it makes his chest feel light. it is a short, garbled sound, but wonwoo seems to beam when he garners a reaction. “come on up, soonyoung. come meet me at my height.”

“i’d need stilts to do that.” soonyoung says, turning his face up towards the window now. no longer hiding behind his camera or looking away from him. he still feels awkward, but there's something about wonwoo that ropes him in, keeps him rooted there. he knows that he must look like a fool standing here, speaking loudly up to wonwoo with snot and tears covering his face. he needs a shower or a hot washcloth. thinking about it causes a hand to come up unconsciously to try to wipe away some of the mess.

in response, wonwoo snorts. ( _“did you just fucking snort?”_ comes a voice from within the room, which lets soonyoung know wonwoo’s not alone. he doesn't know if that makes him more anxious or not.) it should be unattractive, but soonyoung can’t help but to find it endearing. he lifts his camera again. “do you mind…?” he asks, breathlessly.

he shakes his head. “not at all.” still smiling, he pushes his glasses up along his nose. “as long as you are getting my good side.” he places a hand on his hip, striking a forced-looking pose, and soonyoung doesn’t know how he’s been keeping his balance on the windowsill. soonyoung has been on the tips of toes since wonwoo reached out to him.

“well, that should be easy,” he replies, positioning his camera, “you’re equilateral.”

a peal of laughter. his heart swells in his chest. there's something warm about the way that wonwoo laughs so freely and openly. it makes him hope he can see more of wonwoo soon. after he’s gotten his picture, he raises a hand to wave goodbye. soonyoung has no idea where he’s headed now...  _probably the art department to develop my pictures._

“see you soon!” wonwoo yells after him, in english, now leaning out of the window with both hands on the sill. it is almost comical, and definitely adorable. soonyoung tips his head up and laughs into the wind. it shouldn't be so funny, but he wants to see wonwoo's face light up again. plus, he is endearing at least.

soonyoung finds himself still smiling when he approaches the art building.

 

iii. the law of continuance:

_“when there is an intersection between two or more objects, people tend to perceive each object as a single uninterrupted object”_

__

“talk to me about it.” it’s been a week since he’s told him. he’s created a careful schedule that allows for him to miss the beginning and/or end of his classes (if needed) so he can make it home before minghao or junhui. he runs into mingyu a lot more. he learns that mingyu has puppy dog eyes, the kind that follow a person until they feel compelled to spill their heart to him.

( _“it’s no big deal,”_ says soonyoung, folding his arms.

mingyu just listens, doesn’t really judge him. soonyoung knows that mingyu is minghao’s other best friend and that might mean that mingyu will tell minghao everything that he’s said to him, but it could also mean that mingyu understands exactly what soonyoung is going through right now because he also knows minghao like the back of his hand —even though he’s only known him for a couple of years while soonyoung has known him since they were high schoolers. _“if it wasn’t a big deal, then you’d talk about it more openly.”_ he’s not matter-of-fact when he says it. instead, if anything, he’s passive. he reaches to put away the seasonings that he’s collected out of the cabinet to make his dinner. _“you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, but you don’t have to avoid them.”_

 _“yeah, i do.”_ soonyoung doesn’t know why he has to avoid them, probably because his mind is still stuck somewhere in high school. he wants to bask in the drama a little longer. it gives him an excuse for the failed linguistics exam _and_ an excuse for the growing stack of literature readings (and the assignments that work in tandem with the readings).

mingyu shrugs. _“i don’t know about that.”_

 _“yeah, you don’t know much about all of this.”_ soonyoung worries his lip, thinks about taking a walk around campus, but he’s not sure when minghao will get home. he’s confused because he’s not home yet. maybe junhui’s taking him on a date or they have extra dance practice for an upcoming event. _“i’m in love with minghao and junhui is too and minghao likes junhui, so it’s all simple to deduce. i’m out of the equation now.”_

 _“except you aren’t. you are still their friends. they don’t want to upset you or make this seem like they are… i don’t know, punishing you for liking minghao when he didn’t return the feelings.”_ mingyu is putting away his leftovers now. watching him calms soonyoung down. the simple motions are familiar and easy to follow, if not a little repetitive and perfectionist. _“trust me, i don’t think he had_ any _clue that you liked him. he talked about junhui a lot, some other boys and girls here and there too.”_

at that, soonyoung cringes. _“so, from the beginning, i was friendzoned.”_

there’s a genuine laugh from mingyu, but it isn’t unkind. _“i doubt that, soonyoung. he’s very fond of you. i think that he might have thought that_ you _weren’t interested in that sort of relationship.”_ he shrugs. _“i’m not sure though. when he talked to me about it, he just told me that he felt stupid for not realizing it ever.”_ soonyoung doesn’t believe that he was good at hiding it because junhui had picked up on it so quickly. he didn’t have to say anything to him because junhui had caught him staring a little too long at minghao and he connected all the dots. it all made sense.

 _“just talk to them soon, alright?”_ )

soonyoung scoffs, peering into the fridge for absolution or a portal to another dimension. “what’s there to talk about?” he can’t really look over at minghao, so he doesn’t. it’s easier to just keep himself busy by pretending there’s something really important in the fridge and he just hasn’t found it yet. minghao’s getting irritated, probably, he’s not too sure about that, but he knows that he keeps moving. soonyoung can see his feet, so he watches as he bounces from one foot to the other, uncomfortably, awkwardly. nothing’s ever been awkward between them before this. “look, you want to go out with junhui —you might already be going out with him on dates and stuff, but he wanted me to tell you before you two did anything. so, i told you. clearly, there’s a solution and it is found by taking me out of the equation. i’m not going to cry or anything about it. i just need a little space from you, okay?” he emerges from the fridge with a yogurt, tearing off the lid and licking it to punctuate the finality of his words.

minghao nods, backing out of the kitchen.

.

.

it takes a couple more weeks before soonyoung decides to start waiting for them after class again. he doesn’t know how he decides it is time again. maybe he misses both of them, but all of a sudden he finds his feet taking him to the familiar music building. he waits the fifteen extra minutes, pulling out one of his readings so that he can try to catch back up to the class schedule. fifteen minutes turn into a half an hour, then that turns into an hour. it’s a nice warm day, so he doesn’t have to worry about being cold or uncomfortable, but he’s nervous that he’s gotten his schedule wrong somehow.

wonwoo exits the building with his bag slung across his shoulder.

soonyoung’s hands itch for his camera, but it’s in its bag on his own shoulder for once. he keeps his head down, almost hoping that he doesn’t see him. he doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t know if he can keep up with wonwoo’s pace today. he’s already doing something dangerous to himself by waiting for junhui and minghao. he looks up after awhile, doubting that wonwoo is still there.

well, he’s not still there. instead he’s seated next to him, just a hairsbreadth away. “grapes of wrath?” he speaks quietly, peeking at the book’s cover. “it’s a decent read.” he seems somewhat shy when he speaks and he won’t meet soonyoung’s eye which is weird considering the last time they were talking, wonwoo had all but thrown himself out of a window. “i haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“had a fight… with, you know.” he has to know because the reason for the argument was the reason he hadn’t be around the music department. “it was tough. i think it’s getting better now.”

wonwoo nods, taking his book from his hands. soonyoung lets him, reaching down to unzip his camera bag, quickly turning it on and setting it up. what he really would love is a polaroid camera, but he knows that beggars can’t be choosers. his parents had splurged too much money to afford this camera, especially after the surgery, so he was going to be using this camera until he couldn’t use it any longer (or until he made enough money from it to buy a new one). he positions it, plays with the focus, tries to snap a picture, but wonwoo’s pressing his nose to the spine of the book, hiding his face effectively. soonyoung whines audibly and feels immediately embarrassed.

“ah, sorry, a couple of weeks ago you said you were okay with this.” he apologizes, bowing his head and setting his camera down in his lap.

sheepishly, wonwoo removes himself from the book. he’s blushing. “between you and me, i said that when i was a little high from an edible… so, i wasn’t really thinking. i’m not… against it, but it just caught me off-guard when you pulled it out of your bag.” he worries his lip, then begins flipping through the book again. soonyoung _really_ wants to capture his every movement. there’s something beautiful and so _human_ about wonwoo that he feels the need to capture him again and again.

soonyoung nods dumbly, mouth falling open as his gaze traces wonwoo’s perfect eyelashes, the brutal shape of his eyes, the hard lines of his nose, his jaw, the softness of his lips. “may i then…?” his voice is quiet as he holds the camera back up. “i promise i’ll capture your good side. you haven’t shown me a bad side yet.”

wonwoo nods, and soonyoung captures him in still frames, each micromovement. there’s so much adoration running through him for this almost-stranger. he barely knows anything about wonwoo, but one of the things that he does know is that he’s stunning. if he’s around, then soonyoung finds it hard to look away from him. “do you do this a lot?” wonwoo asks after a moment punctuated only by the _click_ s of the shutter.

“take pictures of students?” soonyoung shrugs when wonwoo nods. “not really. i take pictures of minghao and junhui a lot, but you are the first person i’ve made the focus of my studies… uh,” he realizes how it sounds just a second too late. his camera clatters to his lap gently. “not… that you _are_ the focus of my studies… that window is… you are usually at that window… so you usually are… uh… this is weird, isn’t it?”

there’s a smile tugging on wonwoo’s lips, but he bites down on his lower lip and looks away shyly (or what soonyoung thinks is him being shy). “kind of, i guess, i mean… i don’t know?” soonyoung doesn’t know if he himself would be flattered if an almost-stranger made _him_ the focus of their photography for this semester (okay, this semester and some of last semester _and_ he’s pretty sure that if wonwoo had always been a music major, then the first whole year too).

“i just… don’t have much else to do when i’m waiting for minghao and junhui after class, and one day, i noticed you in the window. i can delete them. i haven’t turned any of them in, especially since i wanted to make them part of my final showcase, but if i don’t have your permission, then i’ll find a new aspect to focus on.” soonyoung’s a step away from blabbering on into eternity. he _really_ doesn’t want to lose this opportunity, but he knows now that he knows wonwoo better than just watching him play the piano from outside of the music department, he should ask him to see if he’s okay with this. it might be weird to some people.

next to him, wonwoo’s quiet, pensive. soonyoung lets him think about it without anymore added pressure, but his legs are shaking nervously as he waits. he doesn’t know why he’s so shy about this with wonwoo, but it probably has to do with the almost three years of photographs of him that is burning up space on his computer’s memory more and more each monday and friday. most of the pictures are repetitive: the same motions, the same movements, the same feelings, but there are many that contain so much more than he could have ever asked for. it turns out that pianists are emotivists when playing their instruments, or at least, this one definitely was.

there was something about playing the piano that soonyoung could relate to dancing. it was the way his fingers moved so deftly from one key to the next. soonyoung had never watched wonwoo in particular up close, but he could imagine how he looked. he wishes that he had had the courage to pick up an instrument, because then he might have been able to step into the music building. he might still have a chance with minghao. _oh, that reminds me_ …

soonyoung’s mouth opens just as wonwoo’s does, but both of them are interrupted.

“soonyoung…?” minghao seems surprised, but elated. he doesn’t move too close. both of them are still testing the waters. “...and wonwoo!” he beams at soonyoung’s company. “why don’t you come back to our place for dinner? it’s getting late.”

wonwoo had looked away from soonyoung when junhui and minghao made their appearance, but now he’s looking back at soonyoung, gaze imploring him for an answer. soonyoung has no idea why he needs to give him the go-ahead, especially since he seemed to know minghao. “we’d love to have you. mingyu and junhui cook like professional chefs.” his voice is quiet when he extends the invitation further. he doesn’t know if he wants wonwoo there, but he definitely would like wonwoo to be there.

a nod. junhui claps a hand on his back when he stands up. when soonyoung does, minghao wraps his arm around his shoulders, giving him a look that asks if this is alright. a secret conversation, soonyoung nods, throwing his arm around wonwoo’s shoulders. both of them are a little too tall for him, but he doesn’t mind the slight strain.

junhui is the only one who really speaks on the walk home. the music department isn’t even out of sight yet. “mingyu _is_ training to be a professional chef.” _oh_ , thinks soonyoung, _what an idiot, i totally forgot._ they all exchange laughter, even wonwoo who looks slightly awkwardly nestled between junhui and soonyoung. it’s rare, but in this instance, soonyoung wishes he were an outsider so that he could capture this moment: this rare sliver of happiness that none of them expected to fall in their laps today.

later that night, wonwoo tells soonyoung that he’s okay with him taking pictures of him.

( _“just promise you’ll show them to me.”_ he looks too small for his body.

soonyoung beams like the sun, reaching over the coffee table to touch two fingers against wonwoo’s jawline. _“it’s a promise_ . _i’ll show you all of them.”_ )

.

.

“i’ll walk you out,” minghao says at the same time as soonyoung does, both of them standing up. wonwoo smiles softly at both of them, and junhui reaches his hand out to clasp around minghao’s wrist. it makes soonyoung’s blood feel inflamed in his veins, but he ignores it as he returns wonwoo’s smile and walks with him towards the front door.

both of them put on their jackets before leaving. soonyoung’s hands twitch towards his camera, but he knows that not every moment needs to be captured. not every moment is for the public. “so… where do you live? is it nearby?” he asks, knowing that now the sun has set, it will be a much colder walk to wherever he is headed. if he lives on campus, then it won’t be much of an issue, but soonyoung lacks a startlingly amount of information about the man before him. the man who a whole section of his life is currently dedicated to.

“ah, it’s on the other side of campus. towards downtown,” wonwoo answers. “i shouldn’t have stayed this late.”

soonyoung shakes his head, reaching to grab his house key from the bowl they keep near the door. “i’ll walk with you, no worries. after that dinner, i’ll be needing to get out from the house.” wonwoo doesn’t pry; he doesn’t need to, because he had witnessed the horrible event that had been dinner. it had been a trainwreck, but all in slow motion. it was so excruciatingly slowed that even mingyu and wonwoo fell victim to it. they were unable to pull away from the mysticism, from the awkwardness. no wonder wonwoo hadn’t stayed long after dinner.

no wonder mingyu had said he had a bunch of homework to do.

“i’ll be back soon!” soonyoung yells, then everyone bids farewell to wonwoo and the two of them head outside into the cold air.

.

.

the walk isn’t awkward, but soonyoung learns that wonwoo doesn’t talk much. it falls upon soonyoung to lead the conversation and supply the topics, because if he does that, then wonwoo doesn’t stop talking (unless he’s growing embarrassed, which soonyoung can tell because his face starts to get red underneath the glow of streetlamps and he covers up his smiles that turn into laughs with his hand). they talk about school mostly. soonyoung finds out that wonwoo is a music major and his instrument of choice happens to be the piano. he doesn’t play much else. other than that, he’s also a literature major barely scraping by with his assignments since playing piano takes so much out of him, takes up so much of his time.

“when you see me there, it’s not class or anything. i more or less rent the room out every day that i can, at about the same time really, and i practice. my parents… well, they wanted me to try this dream, even if it ended up being too hard or too much for me.” he shrugs his shoulders.

soonyoung feels bitter knowing that his own parents gave up on him and his dream.

“i’m glad. maybe i can hear you play sometime?” he says, but then regrets it, because that probably means stepping foot into the music department which he has no plans of doing anytime soon. it’ll just end up reminding him of everything he’s lost. it’s such a silly thing, but he really believes that if he goes in there, he’ll end up shattering. what little composure is left in him will just end up burning up like the wick in a candle. “do you have a set up at home?”

shaking his head, wonwoo answers and soonyoung feels like an idiot. “i wouldn’t be at the music building if i could afford it yet. i’m nearly there. i sold my keyboard to help me afford something a little better than that.” he says. soonyoung nods as though he gets it. “what about you?”

“what about me?” soonyoung feels vulnerable, small.

“have you always been into photography?” the question is harmless, but not to soonyoung. he worries his lip and turns his head away from wonwoo.

his answer is whispered so quietly that wonwoo nearly misses it. “yeah, i guess.”

nothing else is discussed on the subject. he had promised to show wonwoo his pictures, so there’s no need for them to talk about it anymore. they depart on the pavement leading up to wonwoo’s apartment. because soonyoung doesn’t know what kind of relationship they have (if it is just professional or if they would be turning into friends at the end of this), he doesn’t know how to bid him goodbye.

he settles for a hand placed awkwardly on his shoulder.

 

iv. the law of proximity:

"objects or shapes that are close to one another appear to form groups”

“weird question,” soonyoung preludes into his phone’s receiver.

“shoot,” wonwoo’s deep voice answers. “i’m all for weird questions.”

“well, this might be disappointing then,” soonyoung laughs freely, tipping his head back, then casting his gaze quickly to the door to see if there’s anyone in the living room who can eavesdrop on him. when he finds it empty, he continues, “it is less weird in, like, the colloquial sense.”

a hum in understanding comes from the other line. it reassures soonyoung that wonwoo’s still on the line. both of them have about thirty minutes before their next class, but soonyoung’s way too embarrassed to look wonwoo in the face and ask him what he’s about to ask him. over the phone is easier. after exchanging numbers, the two often texted each other to meet up and study or so that soonyoung could take pictures of him, but neither of them called each other. soonyoung wondered if wonwoo thought this in and of itself was an oddity. he didn’t seem too bothered by it, not really.

“this weekend i want to take a trip and i want you to come with me,” he finally says, reaching his leg out to toe at his door, moving it back and forth on its hinge. “if you are busy i can move it, but i wanted to try to take some pictures or something, so… maybe we could…?” he falters, trailing off. wonwoo’s the one person he has to cut himself off with because otherwise he’ll be trailing off into eternity. wonwoo’s patient. he listens for whatever should be coming next before proceeding.

another hum. “this weekend?” over the line there’s some shuffling, some rustling of papers. “hold on,” he says and soonyoung leans forward in his seat even though there’s no reason to do so. the sounds stop and wonwoo jokingly fills the silence. “is this your way of asking me on a date, because i have to admit that it’s the worst offer i’ve ever been given.” he and soonyoung both laugh. it’s not really all that funny and soonyoung’s face is turning warm. “ah, but no, i’m free, it seems like.” wonwoo finally answers. “so, sure, we could do something.”

soonyoung’s overexcitement gets the better of him as he stands up and fist pumps. mingyu catches sight of him and lifts an eyebrow. in response, he slams his door shut, leaning on it. a sigh slips from his mouth. “did you just sigh…?” there’s a smile in wonwoo’s tone. “maybe you really are asking me out on a date.”

another bout of laughter. “thank you,” soonyoung says. “i’ll send you all the details and everything. i can drive us. i’ll borrow seokmin’s car since it is the least likely to fall apart.” wonwoo barks a laugh at that. it’s true, all of the other cars that they frequently ride in are worse for wear. especially minghao’s. wonwoo’s roommate’s car. seokmin, a mutual friend of both wonwoo and soonyoung, is overly generous with his car, so soonyoung trusts that he can manage to steal it away for a day or two, plus seokmin lives on campus, so he doesn’t really use his car as much as their other friends do. “thank you though.”

“no need to thank me.” wonwoo says simply. “gotta go to class now. catch you later.”

“yeah,” soonyoung murmurs, feeling a little too embarrassed and flushed. it’s confusing.

.

.

wonwoo figures out that soonyoung isn’t a very good driver nor is he a very safe driver. they’ve almost died… _probably_ more than five times now, and wonwoo’s actually yelled at him. “where did you learn to drive? where did you learn to drive?” he says over and over again, hands grasping at whatever they could so that he would stop being jostled when soonyoung turns a sharp corner, weaving through traffic lanes and swerves dangerously close to the divider. “who taught you that _this_ was how you drive?”

he probably should have mentioned earlier that since the accident, he hasn’t driven much; therefore, he’s a little rusty at turning, braking, and going the speed limit. also, he’s never been the best at staying on the road. wonwoo hits his shoulder over and over again, making him pull over so they can trade seats. “never again,” he says when soonyoung finally pulls over to the shoulder and stops. he unbuckles his seatbelt and clambers out of the car. “never again, soon-ah.” he’s breathing rapidly, chest heaving as he yanks open soonyoung’s door.

sheepishly, soonyoung exits the car and goes around to the passenger side. “i should have told you that i’m a little rusty, also that i just suck at driving in general, but it’s mostly only on freeways.” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck before climbing in. both of them buckle up again and wonwoo takes over the task of driving.

it turns out that he’s a lot better at it than soonyoung: a lot more stable.

although sitting in the passenger seat makes soonyoung want to doze off. he feels his consciousness wavering even as the car jostles them precariously. wonwoo pats his thigh affectionately. “hey, stop trying so hard to stay awake, soon-ah, just go to sleep. i’ll wake you up when we get there, plus i have a gps.”

sleepily, soonyoung nods. wonwoo turns up the music a little.

.

.

wonwoo peeked ahead on the gps out of curiosity. he wasn’t sure if this was a surprise or not, but he figured that since he just hadn’t asked, soonyoung hadn’t told him anything about his plans. when he sees _seoul rose gardens_ on the screen, he realizes that it’s probably not a surprise, but it is special. there’s little reason for soonyoung to take him somewhere for pictures unless he wanted to be there with him and he saw merit in that place.

they arrive right on time and wonwoo pokes soonyoung’s side until he wakes up, swatting at wonwoo’s hands half-heartedly. “sleepy…” he mutters, clearing his eyes of sleep and blinking away the sunlight as he tries to place them. he feels silly since he’s got little clue where they are at, but then realization dawns on him. “we’re here… already?” there’s some type of awe in his voice and his eyes widen as he turns his gaze away from the gardens to look at wonwoo.

he nods, smiling. “got us there in one piece.”

.

.

“turn around.” wonwoo says.

soonyoung does and the shutter of his camera clicks, forgotten in wonwoo’s grasp.

“oh no! no!” soonyoung exclaims, reaching for his camera, but wonwoo takes a step back and takes another set of pictures of him. “you are going to use up all the memory…!” he stumbles forward, still reaching for it. wonwoo is biting down on his smile, trying to hide it as he takes a couple more unsteady pictures of him. “jeon wonwoo, give me my camera back!”

the flowers are beautiful, but they aren’t the focus of today. soonyoung wants wonwoo to be the sole focus. the combination of the roses and wonwoo is brilliant and he doesn’t know how he hadn’t thought of it before. but now wonwoo’s taken his camera and gone rogue from the mission. a laugh springs from soonyoung as he rushes forward to try to steal back his camera, but wonwoo holds it over his head, careful with the expensive technology. soonyoung notices that the strap is around his wrist, so even if he could get his hands on his camera, he wouldn’t have any luck in stealing it back from wonwoo. still, he reaches up, onto his tiptoes, as he tries to grab it.

he falls forward into wonwoo’s chest. both of them laugh, and he can feel the rumble of wonwoo’s laughter in his chest. soonyoung looks up and no one’s ever been this close to him. it flusters him so completely that he pulls away immediately. laughter bubbling into anxiety. “fine, you keep it then.” he says, pretending to pout, pretending to not think about how close wonwoo’s lips were from his own. wonwoo laughs breathily, shaking his head and finally relinquishing the technology back to its owner.

“i’m just trying to make a point,” wonwoo tells him.

“what’s that?” soonyoung always has to ask for clarification even when everything’s simple.

his answer is too complicated for soonyoung. “the focus shouldn’t always be me when you are around.”

.

.

they don’t see each other again until friday.

then they don’t see each other again until monday.

and the cycle repeats like this for a year.

 

v. the law of common fate:

“when visual elements are seen moving in the same direction at the same rate, perception associates the movement as part of the same stimulus”

it takes two years before soonyoung considers them friends. wonwoo has from the beginning, but soonyoung moves slow with relationships. if anyone had asked, then he would have said that wonwoo was his friend, but it takes two years before he actually introduces him as his friend. before, he was just jeon wonwoo, the subject of his studies, his model, his focus.

wonwoo still hasn’t seen any of the pictures that soonyoung has taken of him throughout the four years they’ve been at university together. soonyoung still hasn’t heard wonwoo play the piano even though he’s got his own at his apartment now.

they are in the living room when wonwoo learns that soonyoung’s guarded, more than he could have ever imagined. minghao invites wonwoo to the dance recital that night, but doesn’t even look at soonyoung. everyone in the room seems to understand, except for wonwoo. “maybe, if i can be there, i will be.” he tells them as they leave. mingyu follows them out, probably to meet up with his spring fling or maybe even to get to the recital early and help them out if they need it. mingyu’s successfully taken over soonyoung’s role completely, aside from dancing with them.

“are they icing you out?” wonwoo’s voice sounds small.

“nope,” soonyoung says. “i’m icing them out.”

“oh,” wonwoo says like that makes any sense to him. it doesn’t. both of them continue flipping through their books, trying to find whatever the assignment was over. wonwoo can’t remember anymore where he should be looking for the information. he’s not really okay with soonyoung’s curt answer. “why?”

soonyoung freezes, seems to be contemplating something. wonwoo watches him closely. “because i don’t really want to watch them living the dream i had.” he finally says. “i wanted to be a dancer. i fucked up my foot, so i can’t. that’s all.” his voice doesn’t waver, and when he’s done informing wonwoo, he returns to flipping through his book. “i just… don’t really enjoy watching it anymore. it sucks, but my parents couldn’t afford the surgeries, so i just had to quit.”

it feels like he overexplained his situation, but wonwoo just places a hand on the back of his neck. “i bet you were amazing on stage.” he whispers, low. it’s just meant for soonyoung, but there’s no one else in the room, so he’s confused as to why he’s whispering in the first place. “i would have loved to see you.”

“there’s probably videos on the internet, or minghao might have some.” soonyoung shrugs. the moment’s too tender and he feels the tell-tale pressure behind his eyes that lets him know that he’s going to end up crying, like a child. he can’t even talk about dancing without reverting back to a ten year old who just got pushed down on the playground by the school bully. “maybe you can ask him.” he doesn’t want to watch any of his old videos of when he was good and shimmering and his body worked in ways he wanted it to. his foot moved without the radiating pain scorching his whole body. he was _free_ ; he was _happy_.

now he’s not much.

“okay,” wonwoo finally says, reaching over to wipe away a tear that soonyoung didn’t even notice was streaming down his cheek. he sniffs, pulling away from wonwoo, letting his book clatter to the ground as he swipes at his eyes desperately. he can’t believe he’s doing this in front of wonwoo, in front of anyone.

he really wonders if he’ll ever be okay again. if he’ll ever be able to talk about dancing again without ending up sobbing in someone’s lap. extended family dinners had been hard for him because he was always asked what he’d do now that he couldn’t dance. he never had an answer, until suddenly he was picking up a camera, trying to find a new passion. nothing would ever stick like dance did, but photography was close. he loved it. his hands itched for it, but it wasn’t his dream since childhood. his dream since childhood was ashes for him now. it stained his fingers, wholly unattainable.

“soon-ah,” he hears, quietly, at his side.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes, but doesn’t know why. maybe it’s because he’s disgusting looking now with snot trying to leak from his nose and his face all wet and splotchy. “i’m really sorry,” he apologizes again, finding it hard to breathe as another sobs racks his body. he wheezes, doubling over with his head between his legs. it is hard to focus on his breathing, but he tries to. if he can, then maybe he’ll calm down and everything will go back to normal.

a hand on his back, rubbing circles. it reminds him of when he was in the hospital with minghao after the incident. he had cried so much that he had run himself dry. minghao hadn’t left his side, rubbing his back in slow, careful circles. he pulls himself back from time immemorial because if he had been allowed to visit the past again, he would have kissed minghao then. minghao would have known just how he felt about him, but instead he had cried until he no longer could cry, no longer could breathe. “wonwoo-yah…” he sniffs, voice wobbling as he lifts his head up to look at wonwoo.

he’s moved so much closer. both of their thighs are touching on the couch. soonyoung’s nose almost brushes against wonwoo’s. his whole body feels light, but stuffed full of cotton. “wonwoo-yah…” he repeats, voice in awe. he wants to move closer, but he doesn’t know if it’s because he wants to kiss him or if he wants to just be close to someone again. he leans in, but wonwoo dodges him, pressing his lips against his forehead, then his nose.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around soonyoung. “it’s alright.”

in wonwoo’s warm embrace, soonyoung begins to wail again. it doesn’t fix anything, but it feels full of absolution.

.

.

it just happens to be a thursday night when soonyoung’s showcase is held. there are other artists setting up their own showcases around him, but far enough away to not distract anyone from his work or for his work to distract them from theirs. all of his photographs were blown up, plastered all around him. the electronic board behind him played a slideshow of the photographs taken of the window from the first picture to the last (that previous monday). collages of wonwoo’s face, his expressions, his movements, were all captured and placed together. it would be the first time that wonwoo would get to see his work.

soonyoung invites mingyu, minghao, and junhui. mingyu invites his spring fling and minghao and junhui invite chan. begrudgingly, he invites wonwoo, both anxious and excited to do so. wonwoo extends the invitation to seokmin and a couple of his other friends from the music department. it’s a mess of people all entering the building together; it makes soonyoung feel like he’s going to be sick, even though he’s smiling.

he greets wonwoo first, all but throwing himself into his arms.

“you said you captured my good side, right?” he asks, looks like he wants to be nervous, but soonyoung searches his face and doesn’t find any discomfort there. wonwoo trusts him completely and it makes soonyoung’s knees weak. “i can’t wait to see…”

soonyoung greets everyone else, being passed around and introduced to those he doesn’t know. chan looks at him with wide eyes and he’s glad he can finally meet the renowned chan (who changed drastically in the three years that he’s heard about him. one day junhui no longer nitpicked him. minghao explained to soonyoung that chan had proven himself more and more everyday. there was no room for them to insult him anymore.).

chan bows, too formal with his introduction.

then he rocks soonyoung’s world, flips it upside down. “you are a _legend_.” he says. “i’m so glad i could actually meet you.” minghao and junhui smile together, then towards soonyoung. admittedly, soonyoung wants to cry, but he thanks him and leads all of them over to his booth.

there was no time to think about his dancing career, especially when today was solely about his photography. _his_ photography that was scattered all over a corner of the building in one of the largest showcases in the building. he had so many pictures built up, printed off, enlarged, but all of them were natural, perfect, _wonwoo_. he forgets that wonwoo is the only one who knows that he’s going to be the only one hanging up in any of the pictures.

“soon-ah,” wonwoo gasps.

joshua, a boy they both have just met, turns to face wonwoo. “it’s all _you_.”

all of them separate to examine all of the different set-ups that soonyoung has put up. wonwoo’s hands brush against his own face. minghao whistles, shaking his head. “you got a talent, soonyoung.” he’s watching the slideshow. “i never knew wonwoo could be so handsome.”

.

.

he passes his thesis course, wins a complimentary prize for participating in the showcase.

wonwoo asks him if he can help him clean up, pack away himself, and soonyoung lets him.  he knows that giving wonwoo a private moment with the photographs is important, but he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone why. all he knows is that these little bits of wonwoo don’t solely belong to him, they belong to wonwoo too. even the rarest moments will all still be his, because he’s the subject of each and every single one of the photographs. soonyoung never was going to settle with just scenery, and now all of sudden, he had his very own model. he wonders if that’s even a _thing_ that photographers really do. he wonders how long it’ll last. he wonders if wonwoo’s technically his muse.

wonwoo calls out to him, gently. “what did you do with your pictures of junhui and minghao?”

“well, they are on my computer still, but i didn’t want to… break whatever atmosphere this is.” soonyoung answers, gesturing to the images that have yet to be put away. “i printed one off, but i only have a couple… and i have four years worth of you. you think that i’d have gotten tired taking pictures of you or that they’d look… the same or something.” he reaches out to run his fingers against a row of photographs. wonwoo’s gaze stares back at him, eternalized here.

near him, wonwoo reaches his own hand up, running along the images the opposite way of soonyoung’s trail. they meet somewhere in the middle and wonwoo must be the bravest man in the world because he takes soonyoung’s hand into his own, twining their fingers together. it makes soonyoung’s stomach feel hollow.

he feels strange, but he doesn’t pull away. they are friends after all.

“come to my performance tomorrow night.” wonwoo doesn’t command it, but he doesn’t invite him. there’s little room for him to say no, except that’s all he wants to do. he knows how unfair it is… how wonwoo has come to his showcase (and had even brought a crowd of people), but he didn’t know if he could enter the music building which held the auditorium: a huge performance stage that he would have had the opportunity of a lifetime to perform upon. his feet will never touch that ground now. “i have a surprise for you.”

he doesn’t want to, but he considers it.

.

.

he ends up going, but only after mingyu gives him a pep talk in their shared bathroom.

( _“you can do this!”_ he says, mouth full with toothpaste. soonyoung wants to take care of him and wipe it from the corners of his mouth, but he decides that their relationship has never been bumped up to that level, so it’d probably end up being weird instead of helpful. _“it’s been four years and this is your last chance to get over this fear. you already missed the dance showcase, so… this is it… plus he said he has a surprise_ for you _.”_ he wiggles his eyebrows in a way that soonyoung guesses is supposed to seem suggestive. _we aren’t like that_ , he wants to say, but he just rinses his toothbrush off and leaves the bathroom.)

he had one thing right, and that was that it was his only chance, but he was wrong at sorting the importance into the auditorium or the building, instead it was his only chance to see what wonwoo had waiting for him.

the surprise turns out to be an original composition. the program in his hands lists its title as _soon enough_. it’s english, perhaps a pun on his name (well, if this is for him, then that’s exactly what it is). soonyoung doesn’t think much of it.

that is, until he hears the bright, flowing notes from the piano. he’s never been good at describing instruments, but these notes seem big and full. they rise to the ceiling like balloons, but they never _pop!_ they are bright, like the sun, and soonyoung can see them shimmering in the air around him. the speed is quick. he is close enough to watch wonwoo’s slender fingers dance across the piano keys in some type of cha cha. soonyoung’s _enraptured_ by the melody, the movements, and he knows better, but because he can’t live without immortalizing him, he lifts his camera up and messes with the focus.

.

.

“you came,” wonwoo isn’t the last performer of the night, but he still sounds winded when he bounds to soonyoung excitedly. soonyoung’s never seen him like this, it causes his own smile to reappear on his face: mouth just quirked up enough in amusement and genuine happiness. wonwoo did great tonight and he isn’t about to let himself ruin it for him.

the distance between the two of them disappear completely as wonwoo’s hands start to grasp for soonyoung’s elbows and then he’s being pulled in further into a sweet embrace. with wonwoo’s chin atop his head, the whole world stops turning. natural disasters reverse their damage as soonyoung breathes in a hurricane. it wreaks havoc on his insides, tearing them apart and pushing his heart into his throat. “you did great,” he says into wonwoo’s shoulder, ignoring the rockslide running down his back when he feels wonwoo’s hands there. it’s hard to say if he’d like to stay in this moment forever or not. he feels so raw and exposed. his body feels like it is storing pain into every crevice. the tectonic plates that make up his skin are too sensitive to movement, to wonwoo’s breath on his neck, they shift and his whole body is an earthquake. “it was beautiful,” his voice wavers. he doesn’t realize that he’s gripping onto wonwoo so tightly until wonwoo starts to pull back.

the loss feels like hands are holding just under the surface of dark, deep waters: it’s so cold that it feels like needles pressing into his skin. he doesn’t know if he’ll ever manage to break the surface again without wonwoo there. _you’re beautiful_ , he’s so awestruck by the music, by the fact that all of that had been for _him_ , by the mysticism that is wonwoo. he doesn’t realize that he says it aloud until he registers wonwoo’s expression. his eyebrows are knitted together tightly. confusion clouds over his face as he lets what soonyoung has just said soak into his brain.

“i’m sor—” the waterfall of apologies stop before they can begin.

wonwoo shakes his head, almost violently. his hands are balled up into fists by his side. “don’t you dare apologize unless you didn’t mean it.” he says. he sounds so serious that soonyoung is left to be the one soaking in confusion. “i mean it,” his voice wavers when soonyoung opens his mouth to respond.

“i didn’t mean to say it, is all,” soonyoung says as though it’s any better than an apology.

the sneer on wonwoo’s face when he replies will haunt soonyoung for years. “ _that_ clears it all up and makes it all better— _exactly_ what i wanted to hear— _exactly_ what i asked you to do.” this is anger unlike any that soonyoung has been on the receiving end of. he doesn’t understand it, but it reminds him of when he had yelled at minghao for walking in while junhui and he were discussing him. there’s something underlying the anger, it’s not just embarrassment either. it’s too complicated for simple words. soonyoung’s sure that since this feeling is so specific that there’s probably a german word to describe it.

it turns out he doesn’t need german to explain this.

it’s heartbreak.

 

vi. the law of closure:

“the mind’s tendency to see complete figures or forms even if a picture is incomplete”

it takes another four years for soonyoung to make the two greatest revelations of his young adulthood, maybe of his whole life as he has lived it. the first should have already been known to him, and he supposes that it was, but he had pushed it away towards the corners of his mind and tried to throw it away. it was a reality that he didn’t want to accept because he was immature, childish, and wanted to hold onto his pain for as long as he could. when he actually acts upon the revelation is when things finally start to make sense again. he realizes that he should have done it after he’s already done it, which isn’t uncommon for soonyoung, all things considered in his life.

the first revelation is that if he has a proper conversation with minghao about everything that had occurred before minghao and junhui had ended up together, then he would be happier: feel freer. his whole world would be changed in a positive way that he just couldn’t come to terms with yet because he was still holding tightly onto the pain of that encounter, of all that time spent dumping love into someone who didn’t even love him back.

that didn’t fall on minghao though. any blame on him was misplaced and soonyoung was wrong to misplace it there. it only made him seem like the bad guy. it only ruined a friendship.

it didn’t take any convincing for minghao to meet him. they had moved out from their college apartment. minghao and mingyu got an apartment together while minghao spent a year or five thinking about whether or not he wanted to return home or stay where he felt most comfortable. mingyu was more than willing to put his head together with minghao on any subject and the two of them became as inseparable as soonyoung and he had been. _that’s how he gets you_ , soonyoung wants to warn mingyu, but that’s not right of him. minghao’s not tricking anyone.

junhui had moved to hong kong. soonyoung kept in contact with him as much as he could, but he hadn’t even mentioned moving away to soonyoung, so soonyoung didn’t know how much he should reach out, if at all. he almost wonders if there was a fracture in the earth between minghao and him, but soonyoung never got any updates on their relationship or lack of one. just one day, they weren’t together anymore.

soonyoung had moved into wonwoo’s place right after graduation. the two were making living together work, but wonwoo seemed a little more stressed than soonyoung had ever seen him. there was little that he could do to alleviate his stress, but he tried to be there for him as much as possible (which just ended up being always considering soonyoung took jobs that didn’t involve him sitting in a stuffy office for hours).

when he meets with minghao, it’s at the apartment minghao’s sharing with mingyu. his heart feels heavy when he knocks on the door and waits for the sky to collapse atop of him: clouds covering him in thick, suffocating fog while blue bleeds into his skin and he swallows stars.

“i’ve been wanting to have this conversation… _forever_ ,” minghao speaks first. “i never could have imagined that we could go this long without talking about it. for the first year after the initial fight, i couldn’t… even look at myself. i hurt you pretty bad and that’s the last thing i wanted to do… _ever_.” the laugh he gives is curt and nervous. he leads soonyoung into the living room and he’s prepared tea for the two of them. soonyoung sits down and minghao looks broken almost as he fusses over the setup of the table before seating himself across from soonyoung on the couch. soonyoung recognizes this sort of behavior. minghao often did it before he was scolded by his guardians, by his parents, or by teachers.

maybe he thinks that soonyoung has come here to tell him that he’s done wrong by him.

he hasn’t.

“it isn’t on you,” soonyoung starts, reaches for the cup, but thinks twice about it and leans back in his seat. he’ll wait a minute before making himself anymore comfortable. ever since he gave up the title as minghao’s best friend, he’s also given up the right to relax in his company as though he owns any rights to the place. he’s a friend of minghao’s, but one that minghao hasn’t had a conversation with in almost year: a friend that didn’t watch his dance recital, didn’t help him move when he asked, and conveniently forgot to answer any of his text messages for the past year.

he repeats it. “it isn’t on you. actually, most of it’s my fault. i… apparently figured that being jealous and mad was easier than forgiving junhui and you for betraying me, when _you_ didn’t even _know_.” he shakes his head. “if you didn’t know, then none of this can fall onto you. none of this can be your fault.” he doesn’t know if his words are even getting through to him, but he needs him to know that it isn’t his fault, none of it has ever been. it’s all been soonyoung, even when he forgave minghao, he never talked about it, and things never returned to how they were.

soonyoung grows quiet, trying to decipher how he’s feeling, what to say next. minghao looks like he wants to say something, but he stays silent too. it might be easier for the both of them if they just take this as slowly as they need to take it. “i’m sorry,” minghao finally says and it makes soonyoung want to punch him in the shoulder, but then hug him. it’s so foolish and stupid, but it’s also so soft.

“i wish i had known,” he whispers. soonyoung’s heart speeds up in that familiar way. in the way that minghao always had made it. the useless organ slams itself violently against soonyoung’s ribcage until he’s sure that he might actually cough up blood from the cage fight in his chest. a battle of his heart against his body. minghao is so _familiar_. everything about him reminds soonyoung of home. “there was a time for us, you know? i just… always thought… you weren’t…” he doesn’t finish his thought, but soonyoung understands. he always has.

if he were who he was four, five, six years ago, then he would have tried to make their moment now, but he wasn’t and his bones might crave and creak at the sound of _home_ , but minghao wasn’t his definition of home anymore. he was the childhood home that he had grown up in, but he was not the home that he resided in now. someone else filled his role and he wasn’t quite sure of it still, but he feels himself being pulled towards his shitty apartment that was too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer.

“i want to be friends again.” soonyoung seems resolute. “like we were.”

the smile that minghao gives him blinds him, but his heart is calm.

.

.

the second revelation comes some time after the first.

things are happier: soonyoung has started to dance in his underwear in the kitchen, cooking for both wonwoo and him; he’s started to sing at the top of his lungs, feeling silly, but finally like himself again. wonwoo reunites with the glimpses of the college boy that he had seen on campus. life finally starts to move at a normal speed again (and not only for soonyoung, but for wonwoo and minghao too). it just all finally makes sense… and then suddenly _everything_ makes sense.

it happens while soonyoung’s sitting at the diner after his shift at work. he’s picking up food for both himself and wonwoo, who he’s been texting all day because he’s sick and all soonyoung wants to do is to get home so that he can be with him and take care of him (even though wonwoo has reassured soonyoung that he’s doing fine on his own and that being there with him will only risk him getting sick). the revelation doesn’t come because he’s thinking about wonwoo, or because he’s collecting food. it happens all at once when he’s taking the bag of food from the server. all it takes is a glance at the soup of the day bulletin.

 _i’m in love with wonwoo_.

and he’s thinking about a couple of months ago, in this diner. (wonwoo’s hands are so cold that soonyoung has to hold them in order to warm them up. they are clasped underneath the table so no one can see them and cast their judgements. the diner is crowded, but wonwoo is still freezing somehow. the two of them probably shouldn’t have spent all of their time outside waiting for the new game to be released. they were too old for this life _and_ too underdressed for this weather, but wonwoo had insisted… soonyoung had been too excited for the game’s release.

“i don’t understand this,” wonwoo shivers violently and soonyoung’s hands tighten their grip. he looks so grumpy and cold, buried in his own coat with soonyoung’s thrown over his shoulders. “i’ve never been this damn cold.”

soonyoung raises his eyebrows, trying to wiggle them. he’s pretty sure that it doesn’t work out. “are you sure you don’t just want an excuse for me to hold your hand?” wonwoo pushes him, almost dropping his hands, but soonyoung holds tight, laughing warmly. “i’m just kidding,” he reassures him. wonwoo’s eyelids droop as they both fall into a silence, waiting for their soups while listening to the murmur of the voices throughout the diner. soonyoung falls into a rhythm himself as he brushes his thumb against wonwoo’s palm. it’s surprisingly soft where he knows his fingertips are calloused.

when their soups arrive, he pulls away from wonwoo so quickly that both he and the waiter are stunned for a moment, inquisitive gazes lingering. he doesn’t know why, but he’s unable to shake the uneasy feeling for the rest of the night, but he smiles through it.)

he almost drops his bag of food, nearly running out of the diner.

when he arrives at home, his forehead has gathered sweat and his breathing is erratic. wonwoo lifts his head up from the couch. he’s been watching something on tv, soonyoung can hear the quiet drone of it in the background, but it turns to static. “are you the first zombie in the zombie apocalypse?” he asks, voice deeper than usual, but watery.

soonyoung laughs like it’s the funniest joke to fall upon his ears.

wonwoo looks at him like he’s got two heads (and maybe he does, wonwoo’s fever has spiked in the last hour, but he hasn’t had a chance to tell soonyoung yet). he makes a noise of confusion, and soonyoung answers him by dropping their food bag and marching over to him.

when he reaches him, he pulls him from the blankets he’s covered in and wonwoo tries to weakly squat him away, trying to ask him what he thinks he’s doing. soonyoung tries to shush him as he wraps his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of wonwoo’s neck. the skin is burning up, but soonyoung pushes that off to the side. his voice is quiet when he finally answers all of wonwoo’s questions. “i _do_ think you are beautiful, jeon wonwoo. i think you are the most beautiful person in the whole world.”

the only reply he gets is a choked noise from wonwoo.

“i’m in love with you, wonwoo-yah.” soonyoung confesses against his heated skin.

and wonwoo responds by fainting on his shoulder.

.

.

it takes a couple of days for wonwoo to recover. he has to be hospitalized overnight, then he has to take a bunch of medicines to treat the various symptoms that he’s suffering from. soonyoung takes a short vacation from his job so that he can solely dedicate his time to taking care of him. he’s confident that wonwoo will be back up on his feet by the next week.

the only real trouble of wonwoo being so sick is that he doesn’t seem to recall soonyoung’s confession, or if he does, then he hasn’t mentioned it. it makes soonyoung nervous; he wants to bring it to attention, but he doesn’t want to put any added stress onto wonwoo (who spends most of his time trying to sleep off the strange virus that had decided to attack his system). he reassures himself that after wonwoo is better, they will be able to talk about it.

.

.

“can we talk?” soonyoung slides into the chair across from wonwoo. they are in their dining area and wonwoo’s just finished the breakfast that soonyoung had cooked for the both of them. he pushes his glasses up before he nods, muttering an _alright_ to indicate that he’s all ears for soonyoung and whatever he’d like to talk about. it’s been almost a month since wonwoo’s sickness and soonyoung just never could find the right time to ask him about it. it always seemed like asking him was the wrong thing to do: there would come a better time and a better way to have this discussion, but at the same time, soonyoung was tired of waiting.

with minghao, waiting had ended up in heartbreak like he never wants to feel again.

so, this time, he’s done waiting. he’s too old to be waiting another set of nine long years (even if he was nearly there with wonwoo. _how come i move so slow with romance?_ soonyoung honestly can’t believe all the years that have slipped past him and he’s done little more than have his first kiss—which was with _junhui_ , drunkenly, at a party. he honestly didn’t really want to consider _that_ his first and only kiss. he can hardly remember it now. he was too young to be drinking, but someone had snuck alcohol into the party and he had just accepted his cup from whoever because he was young and naive. other than junhui, at that party, though, soonyoung hasn’t even kissed anyone. most of his lifetime had been taken up by dancing, minghao, photography, wonwoo). his camera is in the middle of them, somewhat of a barrier. even though he’s the one who initiated the conversation, he’s the most nervous, so he picks it up to fiddle with it as he tries to find his words.

“do you remember the night you went to the hospital? like… do you remember anything before going to the hospital?” he tests the waters, trying to see if there’s any hint of recognition that flashes in his eyes, if he recalls the moment that soonyoung wants to speak about.

wonwoo seems to turn it over in his mind before he answers. “somewhat. my fever spiked, but i didn’t want to worry you since i knew you were on your way home, but i put on some drama to watch while i waited. you came home and you looked like you ran here…” he trails off, looking pensive. he looks scholarly with his rounded glasses and a folded newspaper beside him. no wonder that he’s playing for a big-named orchestra now. soonyoung has a sudden urge to take a photograph of him, even though he knows that now isn’t the time for that. still, he tries to do it secretively.

wonwoo sees right through his fiddling. “do you think that the years of you taking pictures of me hasn’t taught me how you look before you are about to take a picture, or just, generally, the buttons you press before you take one?” he raises an eyebrow, smirking playfully. soonyoung smiles back at him, shaking his head.

“no, wonwoo-yah,” he says, unconvincingly dropping his voice to sound lower and more serious. “i don’t know what you are talking about… there’s not even a camera in my hands.”

“not anymore,” wonwoo reaches over and takes great care not to spill the pot of coffee that’s sitting on the table, mostly forgotten. “say _cheese_ , soon-ah.” and if there’s one thing that soonyoung hates, it is his camera being turned on himself, but when it’s wonwoo, it feels so silly. the rapid flutter of the shutter lets him know there’s no finesse to these pictures. none of them will come out perfectly: some might even be blurry, but he’ll capture this moment as real as it is now. soonyoung reaches over the table, careful not to spill the coffee either. both of them fumble for a minute, wonwoo still snapping pictures and soonyoung _barely_ grasping onto his camera.

wonwoo laughs, tilting his head back and pulling the camera away from soonyoung. his whole face is involved in the laugh. his nose scrunches up and his eyes disappear as his mouth falls open to let out the hearty sounds. he reminds soonyoung of a fatherly type of person. someone who, at twenty-eight should be starting to settle down and have a family. he bets that wonwoo would make a great father to some child either already out there in the world or to come. even if soonyoung has never seen him interact with kids, it’s his laugh that reassures him that he could be great at being a family man, but at the same time, soonyoung thinks that wonwoo could exceed at anything he tried to be (except maybe photography). with him laughing so uncontrollably and openly, warmth blossoms in soonyoung’s chest. it’s usually there, but pulsating lightly. when he laughs, soonyoung feels warm all over.

he ends up laughing too. eyes nearly closed as he stretches his arms across the table, still trying to retrieve his camera from wonwoo. “hey,” he says once both of them are calming down, still uttering giggles and chuckles here and there. nothing is even really funny anymore, but neither of them can just stop laughing. not until soonyoung swallows his laughter, “hey, wonwoo-yah, i love you.”

from soonyoung’s perspective, the next couple of seconds seemed to stretch into hours. wonwoo’s smile falls from his face and his brow scrunches up in confusion. there’s not much that soonyoung can do to remedy that, so he just makes a noise in the back of his throat, helpless and full of half-baked regret. he wants to immediately apologize. he shouldn’t have just sprung it on him like that. he doesn’t realize that he’s starting to ramble, apologizing and trying to explain why he did it all in the same breath. “i’m sorry, i realized it the other day and i told you when you were sick, but i don’t think you remember and i haven’t even had a proper first kiss let alone a proper first boyfriend and i realized i was in love with you because i remembered that day in the diner when you felt like a corpse and i still held your hand and i think i could have probably kissed you that day if i still didn’t have regrets about how i left things with minghao, but i talked to him and it all is better. he forgave me and we can be friends again and if you don’t love me then i hope we can still be friends, but i just cannot live without you. you feel like home to me and i love coming home to you. i love it so much. you aren’t just my muse or my housemate or my best friend… you are the person i want to be with and it’s so embarrassing to realize it this late when i’m sure that you probably noticed that i was in love with you. i don’t know, i don’t know, wonwoo-yah, i just wanted you to know… to know… that, i guess.”

soonyoung doesn’t notice wonwoo get up, out of his seat. he doesn’t notice that wonwoo has pushed him bodily over so that he can sit next to soonyoung on the small dining room chairs. he only notices when wonwoo taps him on his forehead. “i love you too, you massive dork.”

when they kiss it is clumsy, and they only do it because it feels like right now is the right time to do it. it is less romantic and more careful. a light fleeting press and then both of them are retreating behind their sweater paws. both of their faces have heated up and honestly, soonyoung feels like a fucking teenager again. it’s silly and ridiculous. they move in for a second kiss and this time they have the basics down so it is a little more than a press of lips, but neither of them know what to do. wonwoo’s too nervous to even put his hands on soonyoung’s body and soonyoung’s lost as ever.

the third time, it is actually a kiss. wonwoo’s lips meld with soonyoung’s and he curiously slides his tongue across soonyoung’s bottom lip, surprised when his response is a light gasp of delight. suddenly soonyoung’s brain starts working again and his hands fist into wonwoo’s sweater. he accidentally nips wonwoo’s lips in his excitement, so their third kiss isn’t much better than their first and second. they try once more, but it’s hard because both of them are laughing, soonyoung says something about kissing wonwoo’s lips better, but the next kisses are just warm and soft. none of it is award-winning nor acclaimed, but wonwoo _loves_ kissing soonyoung. he knows that much already (even if he kisses somewhat like an overexcited puppy once he has the hang of it).

.

.

“i love you, my sun,” wonwoo says while they are laying on their living room floor.

it takes another couple of years before they realize that two big job offers in the united states means _marriage_ if they decide to settle their roots there. it terrifies the both of them to move so far away from their home, and all soonyoung can think of is minghao when he moved here from china. it isn’t as though they can’t ever move back here, or they can’t come to visit, but with every pro that soonyoung brings up, another con falls from wonwoo’s lips. neither of them are fighting about it though. the conversation ebbs and flows. they have to have an answer by the end of the week or wonwoo’s spot will be freed up.

they are breathing in tandem, soonyoung can feel the easy rise and fall of wonwoo’s chest.

“i love you, my moon,” he turns over to look at wonwoo and wonwoo turns onto his side too. “it doesn’t matter what we decide, because as long as we are together like this, i don’t mind. i couldn’t mind.”

they agree for the first time after getting the job offers.

then wonwoo catches soonyoung’s grin and he already knows that he’s going to be laughing at whatever he hears even if it is unfunny shit that soonyoung’s brain just generated on the fly (which it is). “i’ll still love you in america,” he says, “if you are worried about that.” and he knows that wonwoo isn’t worried about that since he understands basic principles of human behavior.

the laugh wonwoo gives is short, but genuine and he leans their foreheads together. “i might not though, america could change you.” soonyoung rolls his eyes and presses his lips against wonwoo’s in a chaste kiss.

and it seems like they have their answer.

 


End file.
